


Rubber Duckies on the Thames

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-11
Updated: 1999-05-11
Packaged: 2018-11-10 18:52:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11132706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser's obsession revealed kinda  sorta....well...





	Rubber Duckies on the Thames

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

RUBBER DUCKIES ON THE THAMES

#  **RUBBER DUCKIES ON THE THAMES**

**A DUEX DUX PRODUCTION**   
  


Authors' Note: This is a joint round purple martin type effort by a couple of Trulie Evile Ficcers: and   
  
  
  


OK, Once upon a time a Mountie was sauntering along the Thames and noticed some papers splashing upon the seashore. Always curious to mysterious occurrences he stooped to investigate and found them to be some personal type records with the Royal's Stamp..."Oh dear", said he, a loyal subject of the Crown, "My wee Queen's health notes all soggy and sticking against the mud...and congealed with green slime and with a bit of seaweed also and some shells and feathers, most likely anas platyrchynos or something similar". Taste, spit, "Yes it is seaweed and of a variety that grows on the shores of Northernmost Scotland where the bagpipes play on the Mountainsides in the early dawn of the new moon".   
  
  
  


**Parte the Seconde.....**   
  


Carefully brushing the myriad bobbing rubber yellow duckies out of his way Benton reached deep into his pocket and withdrew the large and sterile plastic bag he always kept upon his sturdy person for such contingencies. With due reverence to the Royal documents, the noble and well muscled Mountie popped the soggy mass carefully down his pants. The extreme cold against his torso was a painful yet wistful reminder of his homeland. 

He knew his duety however and made rapidly for the headquarters of the UK (those with particularly rosy tinted spectacles would name United Kingdom) police. "Ah" he breathed, his breath perfuming the air with delicious scents of pemmican products and part digested furry nightcrawlers, as he gazed with no little awe upon the large architecturally styled building, "New Scotland Yard, not to be confused with Scotland Yard or indeed the most excellent country way up North, land of my forefathers (and mothers probably too)." 

As he carefully mounted the steps of the majestic building, gathering as he did curious stares from passing members of the public, including indeed tourists from his own beloved country and the not so beloved country to the South of it, loud squishy sounds emanated from his puffy but regulation nether uniform. Becoming aware of sly sniggers close behind his well formed butt the steadfast, almost tree-like, Benton Fraser whirled round only to be confronted by.......   
  


**Part Trois**   
  


Lou 

Skagnittooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!   
  


**Quartre Par**   
  


However our bold Constable was unaware that his gaze fell upon the notorious Skagnito. In fact he ignored the cannibal altogether for his eyes were blinded by the beauteous princess by the monster's side. For a moment, and a moment only, he totally forgot his duety, the location of Canadada and his shoe size - the latter being quite important since he had travelled to the somewhat United Kingdom to purchase a pair of new shiny mountie-type boots. For reasons that don't quite need exploring at this juncture his splendidly repaired but somewhat aged boots were no more. 

The moment passed however and iron entered the Mountie's heart as he recalled his past errors with beautiful longhaired women, especially those swathed in silky roiling dark hair which unfortunately most always tended to foretell an ever so and equally dark heart. Coincidentally a No 73 London bus had just roared past advertising on its side the venerable Victoria and Albert Museum. Many might recall the Mountie's previous extraordinarily dubious association with a woman of the same name as the late Empress, and might be sorely tempted to link this event with Fraser's sudden attempted dash for the safety of the inner sanctum of British constabulary. Many might very well be right on the money with that well founded supposition. 

Lou Skagnito turned to the princess, his own princess for whom he had given up his evil ways, and his heart sank. For her part the princess stood transfixed. 

"Why oh princess do you stand so?" wailed the former evil person. "Could it be your love for me has evaporated into the morning mist since your laying your pretty blue eyes on that Candadian creature?" Skagnito might have been an evil monster but he sure could tell a person of Canadian origin when he saw one. 

"Ah" replied the princess slowly coming to her senses, and suddenly wary, for she knew that it was nearly lunchtime and her reply might well mean the difference between a snack with Lou and being a snack for Lou.   
  


**Part V....**

The princess was torn....as the Mountie was inadvertantly standing on her billowing skirts......Lew was angry, beady little yellow eyes askance, eyebrows knitting a fair isle type sweater, brow tightly furrowed, gums beating.. What was he to do to rid the environment of this beauteous gentleman with eyes the color of the deepest blue sea sapphire, teeth like hand picked pearles, and the voice of an angel's finely tuned harp  <VBG>.....but he is a wee bit klutzy and lacks one kind of polish whereas he has too much of another type of polish. One would think a balance could be struck but it is not forthcoming..will the princess notice, I fear so..that she may lean toward ..........................................................................................................................................................................................the Mountie..!!!! "I can't allow it, I must due away with him....what is that?!"..Whoops, ploop...splash...bark, bark, growl. A wolf , a real wolf pushes the great swimophobe LOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUu SKAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGggggggggggggggggNNNNNNNNNNIitto into the moat of lost dreams!!!!! "Oh stop!", shouts Lou as the wolf pulls and tugs the villian toward the drain in the hopes of losing him forever... A VERY BIG SPLASH is seen as a flash of red is making its way to the rescue...   
  


Doggie thoughts: <no Benny, noooooooooooooooooo..after all I've done for you..out on Prince Ruperts Sound, I mean after I rescued you, you rescued me and although you don't always treat me as you should, you have never abandoned me and hopefully you will return me to my homeland soon which is very far from this stinking stetched moat with this squirrely gangling villian. Back off and let me finish him off>   
  


Alas no good as the muddy, fowlsmelling critter is dragged up on the creaking bridge while a lovely flock of new fluffy ducklings with their motherduck float under the red tuniqued gentleman who is working feverishly to rescue LOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU Skagggggggggnittoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.   
  


"That will teach you to pollute the moat, you poacher. No swimming in the salmon pool..eh...and this is the purest of waters that is consumed in the Royal Molson Drink...swimming is not allowed here and you will dearly pay for what crime you have committed"....The Beautiful Mountie removed his lanyard and quickly executed two double haft hitch knots and Lou is trussed tighter than the Thanksgiving bird. The knot is then secured to a lovely weeping willow on a block and tackle and he is left dangling in the air.   
  


Meanwhile the Mountie scours the streets of A Certain Scottish City for a laundromat to wash his duds, a cobbler shop to buy some more cordovan polish for his soggy boots, and a towel with a maple leaf emblem to cover his royal self while the laundry is in process.   
  


**Saxth pairt..**.   
  


On viewing her former though truly wicked lover hanging forlornly from the block and tackle the Princess began to shed bitter tears which sparkled like the most expensive of white diamonds in the summer sun. Her heart went out to the hapless villain whose salty tears, betokening his truly broken heart, swept in torrents down his lilywhite cheeks polluting the Royal Molson water bigtime. Her opinion of the Beauteous Mountie did an 180 degree turnabout. Why oh why had the big galoot left her Lou to dangle so whilst he (the Mountie) made the long journey to the port of Aberdeen for dry cleaning purposes??   
  


"Oh Lou" she whispered "Lou Skagnittooooooooooooooo" she cried softly "do not weep for me for I have had a complete and utter change of heart and due truly love you" 

"Oh Princess" sobbed Lou quite overcome by the news, which percolated like strong coffee through the neuroreceptors in his tortured brain, "how could you love one such as I when the Noble Benton Fraser still breathes, exhaling and inhaling the oxygen in the atmosphere of this quite badly polluted planet? If only I could be as he and care for more than my own selfish pleasures" Lou heaved a huge gusting sigh which quite blew the eavesdropping motherduck and her precious fluffy ducklings off course.   
  


"Dash it!" quacked the motherduck frantically attempting to gather her babes together as the waters of the moat, which had surprisingly appeared overnight to guard the building and to provide an excellent source of Royal Molson water, turbulently washed over the little family. 

"It's alright mamma" quacked little Liam duckling nestling close to his mom, "we're here aren't we Samuel?"   
  


"For sure!" quacked tiny Samuel valiently swimming alongside his brother. 

When she had composed herself and her brood, the motherduck began to think hard about the situation that presented before her. For this was no ordinary (though could there ever be such a thing?) duck, this duck had devoted her life to humankind in an effort to make these puny creatures see sense about ....well most of everything.   
  


"This Lou Skagnittttttttoooooooooo" she pondered, "Can I, a mere yet ultimately sensible duck, redeem this tragically flawed character? And what of the Mountie? Why had an apparently noble and heroic type person, almost seeming like a character from a twice cancelled television series with a really bad singer for the lead role, why had he deserted his obvious duety for uniform care and maintenance?" Something stank here and it wasn't no otter poo!   
  


**Parte septe**   
  


Hamlet swithered, Lear was prideful, Oedipus was a reckless mommy's boy. All heroes have their flaw. Benton Fraser's just happened to be... laundry. The Silver City Cleaners beckoned as a siren's sweet song to the young(ish) moat-sodden Mountie. As he boarded the Virgin Express from Kings Cross his only thoughts were of his precious uniform and its present unclean state. Blind he was, blind as the aforementioned ancient riddle-answering King, main protagonist in many a Freudian slip. The English countryside slid or possibly slithered past..many tunnels were entered as the 125 thundered its way towards Benton's ultimate clean dream.   
  


"Tell me, my young though rapidly bordering on 40, representative of Canadian law enforcement.." began his fellow passenger, mysteriously swathed in a huge Inverness cape, as he leaned forward into the Mountie's personal space.   
  


"Tell me why you wish to visit the fair city of Aberdeen? I am eager to learn. Due tell."   
  


"Ah" sighed Benton in best romantic type poet fashion, only rather more healthily than the dying in an attic full of dangerous and fully illegal substances kind. Thus the hapless laundry loving Canadian fell into a contemplative whiter than white dream where every day was washing day and every stain a goner.   
  


The stranger, a mite peeved, tried another tack. Desperate he was for conversation for he had been brought up for some 30 or so years by a wandering tribe of deaf wolves and for 20 years since his eventual rescue he had made strenuous efforts to learn human speech. Unfortunately just has he had become fluent in his mother's native tongue, his own tongue had been severely ripped from his head during a fly fishing accident. Happily the tongue had been retrieved before the pike pounced and through the miracle of modern microsurgery, firmly reattached. This was to be his first *big* conversation since the operation. Only it didn't look like the Mountie was gonna play.   
  


As he began to tell a convoluted tale of murder, suicide, murder and murder, the legalities of which made ping pong look like a preserved yeti, a muffled snuffly yawn caught his ear. The very ear which had become the tragic victim of an unhinged ear slasher. Again however microsurgery had leapt to the rescue and he could yet wiggle his almost Prince Charles' size lug wantonly.   
  


He swivelled his eye, his only working eye that is, slowly towards the snuffling origin. One would wish to draw a veil over the horrific hoovering accident that had disposed of his other eye. Microsurgery had failed him this last time but he had persuaded his surgeon to do some really neat cross stitch for his eyepatch.   
  


"Nice doggie."   
  


"Don't bother he's deaf."   
  


"Deaf!"   
  


"Yup."   
  


Well this indeed was a start, dog owners were usually completo nutso about their mutts. Perhaps the long fantasised conversation could begin.   
  


"So what breed is the little fellow?" he beamed.   
  


"Wolf"   
  


"A deaf <gulp> wolf?"   
  


"Yup."   
  


The rest of the journey was peaceful.   
  


*************   
  


Squelching through Union Street in determined search of the laundromat o' his dreams accompanied by a thoroughly cheesed off and hungry wolf like being the truly focused Mountie was stopped, nay halted in mid tracks, by a consumer association survey type personage dressed as a giant pack of washing powder.   
  


"Just the *very* fellow!" exclaimed the pack bouncing up and down losing a few flakes in the process. "Due due follow me and I will lead you to the cleanliness of your heart's desire. Your soggy uniform will gleam and show wondrously crisp pressing, and Her Majesty, whose health records by the way have been safely delivered back to the relevant filing area as per the H L Dewey Decimal system, will no doubt knight you on the spot! Or rather on the exceedingly clean area where she no doubt stands, which is most likely diligently dusted by a squadron of the Queen's Own Cleaning Persons."   
  


An eager gleam lit in the blue eyes of Benton. Visions of becoming, Sir Benton, The Royal Presser of Ye Pants can canned wildly across his one track imagination...with a side track towards wondering nethergarments could be included. Ironing boxers was *so* very satisfying to his soul. He thus followed the giant pack without a care or heed as to the recklessness of his actions. Dief had vanished in search of sustinance.   
  


**Octavo**   
  


"Oh my oh my!" sighed the Mountie in the deep depths of dark despair, almost as deep as the despair which seared through him when his most favourite cop in the whole world deserted him to masquerade as the notorious, yet devastatingly attractive, Armando "The Bookman" Langostino. He sat with his head in his hands and moaned softly, oblivious of the harsh jangling chains shackling his well toned and practically Michaelangelo-type sculpted hands and feet.   
  


How could he have been so utterly utterly foolish? Why or why had he sniffed heartily and with gusto the gleaming white T-shirt proferred by the villain in pack guise within the confines of the stripy tent adorning a small nook of Gardens of a Unified Terrace nature, rather too close to the gents for his nasal comfort but the lure had been stronger than the odour.   
  


The whole of this north-easterly Scottish city had practically yelled "beware, doom, doom lies here oh Benton most Fraserly of the Frasers!" at every laundry obsessed step. That....restaurant, a mere 100 yards from *that* department store....how much more of a clue did a man need?   
  


Dief lay at Benton's bare sockless, bootless, feet. The half-wolf's paws were crossed over his muzzle as he muttered exceedingly fowl imprecations towards his alpha partner. <Saggin frazzin Mountie...one bite of the cherry and wham bam.....led by his....>   
  


"Diefenbaker!" scolded the (almost) pure of heart law enforcement officer of Canadian extraction.   
  


<Humph> mumphed the unrepentant canine licking his lips wistfully. He could just make out the last remnants of that delicious pork pie he'd so expertly snagged from the baker's van as it made its early morning delivery to......*that* restaurant. The criminality of his act bothered him not one whit. He needed food and by gum it didn't look like his usual source was up to snuff, no siree.   
  


This fairly silent battle of wills was suddenly interrupted by an overwhelming flood of light, though obviously the Mountie's highly trained and pretty much cerulean eyes adjusted in nanoseconds.....as the door opened revealing.......   
  


**Part Nino**   
  


LLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU 

SSSSSSSSSSSKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGNittoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo   
  


**Dix**   
  


.....here oh most imprisoned of Mounties!!" hollared the afore (or most probably afive) mentioned Lou smugly. However the smirking villain should have withheld that smirky grimace from his dot-to-dot type pockmarked visage for tis truly stated that thou shalt not rest easy till the feminine gendered person of above average avoirdupois lets loose with the ole vocal cords. For as will be shortly but nevertheless descriptively revealed, Lou's self-satisfied announcement of his presence echoed eerily through the thick dank dungeony corridors of the old TollBooth bouncing like a shiny bouncy ball from wall to wall, from ceiling to ....er ceiling, narrowly avoiding by mere good fortune, being sliced in painful twain by the city's onlie remaining yet still deadly guillotine. The sound travelled further......and further....right up past the Boulevard, took a quick shot of Mad McMaxx's spiffy new ride and sailed effortlessly across the billowing North Sea with not so much as a lone bagpipist to send it on its weary way.   
  


In the next continent of a similarly northerly persuasion another shiny yet completely unbouncy ball rolled swiftly to reach its target. In adjoining lanes many many unbouncy balls of varying sizes and weights joined their gravity bound compatriots as they attempted yet another attack on the vile forces of upright skittles. For was it not written, somewhere or other, that the only possible position for a skittle was on its back!   
  


"Sodo thiso!" sighed the ex-lobster mobster in the white duck trilby as he gazed with beauteous green as emerald from the fabled city of Oz-type peepers on the scene of furious conflict below. 

"RRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraymondo" pouted his spouse lifting the trilby and planting a luciously lipsticked smackerooni on his well polished yet still very much the babe-magnet type hairstyle....or mostly in fact.....head.   
  


"Will that stain?" asked her less than loving spousal partner grouchily.   
  


"Ummmmm" stated Stella kinda very much doubtfully, ex powerful authority figure in the Chicago Law Courts. She scooted her bright pink crimpelene clad behind off Rrrrrrraymondo's well stacked.....desk and began to search for some suitably powerful cleansing agent.   
  


The winner of the golden shot slammed with perhaps undue force the trilby hat atop his bonce once more. The brim of the slightly overlarge headgear almost but not quite covered his ears for his petulance had been that well.....petulant. However fortune was with him for his partly covered eardrums still made out the faint hemidemisemiquavering..........   
  


"Louuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu Skagnetttiiiiiiiiiiiiiooo here oh most imprisoned of Mounties." Even the smugest of smug smirks had been preserved.   
  


"Oh me oh mio!!" exclaimed the Vecchian one in one heck of a bad Italian accent. He had obviously been hanging round with mobsters with acting ambitions of a Godfatherly nature too long.   
  


"Benito!!!!!!!"   
  


"Ben who??"   
  


"Er......Benny.....you know Benton......Benton Fraser.......Constable Benton Fraser......RCMP?"   
  


Stella Vecchio......which one must admit does not even scan well.....shook her completely bleached hairdo and shrugged.   
  


"The guy in red......with the.......buns!"   
  


"Ah!" nodded the less than stellar intelligence. Poor girl had completely lost most of her marbles since moving to the heated Florida sunshine.....or it could have been the bleach. Anyway she was now incapable of earning a good living from a States Attorney type career , though too proud to leech of her fairly traditional Italian hubbie. This had led to some fairly spectacular arguments until she had settled in employment as a Day Care Assistant for French Poodles.   
  


Raymondo Albertino Vecchio......just a smidgen short of ravishing....stood up and declared to his newest wife and the world in general.....accidentally that is for he knocked the on button on the bowling lane loudspeaker.   
  


"I declare that hereforth and henceforth and heretoforth I shall sally....not dally.....most probably on a forthcoming Florida flight ......and rescue the fair.....I mean dark.....Mountie! He shalle notte fall into the clutches of that most evil of villains......Looooooooooouuuuuuuuuuu Skagnittttttttttttttttto!!".   
  


Cue round of applause from busy bowlers? Nah......fortunately or unfortunately most hearing aids were turned off due to the clatter of the busy balls below.   
  


One short hop to the airport whose name a quick search of www.yahoo.com or some other fine net search facility would no doubt produce, and selfless disposal of a wad of duely earned moolah later, the elegantly lean machine-type figure of the ex-cop settled his peachy buns into the soft comfy seat of the gleaming 747.   
  


Now at this point some may be wondering how the faithful person of Italian extraction was able to zone in to the exact destination for former partner saving type dueties. Wonder no longer oh attentive and high IQ-bearing reader! Vecchio's wondrous schnozz, whose abilities were sadly underused by the, possibly over 6ft in a thick fog and a bad squint, Mountie of Canada, had given him the precise directions to the last seconds of latitude and longitude dude.   
  


Anyhoo....getting back into the thicket of the ahem action......   
  


"No! No!" wailed the almost strongwilled Mountie shaking his lustrous pelt which no one in their right mind could ever suppose to be artificially coloured. No indeedy L'Oreal were making no profits from this boy's wig.....oops......er......hair......?   
  


"Yes! Yes!" came the equally strongminded response.   
  


"Now open oose moufies and eat...........or it will go worse for you Benton my sweeting.....*much* worse!!"   
  


A silvery spoon, crested with an heraldic crest of the House of Windsor and therefore most likely purloined from the same house, pressed urgently against the Canadian's pouting but firmly sealed red lips.   
  


"Now now don't turn your pretty head away from me!..or....I'll tickle you!"   
  


Benton's eyes, as per previous descriptions, grew bright with unshed tears and he sniffled piteously.   
  


Dief moaned to see his partner brought so low by such an evil creature.   
  


"C'mon now my pet, *someone* has to taste test my new peeps recipe.....and you're it!" The voice dropped to a seductive tone and a tongue circled the quivering Fraser's seashell-like outer ear slowly soooooo slowly as if memorising the contours for a very special show an' tell.   
  


"Just think" the voice whispered tickling the fine hairs within the inner ear.."If you *don't* drop down dead within say....the next 15 minutes or so....I can take this recipe and.....the whole North American Continent is mine! Mine I say! All mine!!"   
  


At this point Benton's curiousity killed notte the cat, but it did get the best of his better judgement.   
  


"But....." he began, only to have his mouth estuffed full of NewPeep (tm) recipe.   
  


Without so much as a by your leave red tipped fingernails rapidly tickled the Mountie into swallowing the confection.   
  


"Oh dear" muttered Benton very much shamefaced.   
  


"Oh Benny!"   
  


Rrray had arrived too late for his plane had by some unnatural quirk of fate, very much contrary to the normal deus ex machina typical of the pair's usual adventures....anyway his plane had succumbed last night to the local airport's 10.30 rule which meant that the ex-cop had lost precious hours bussing in from the Smiling City. This also meant that his fellow travellers learnt some very interesting, colourful, inventive yet strangely physically impossible, Italian swear words.   
  


15 minutes later a *very* large, very *red* Peep shuffled out of the TollBooth. On one side of the strange creature strode an unshaven fairly depressed Italian-American muttering darkly to himself whilst scribbling post-its. A fair number of these were already decorating the Peep like square yellow polkadots. A close observer could read   
  


"Bite Me!", "Yeah Really... Go On!"...."Any Side!"   
  


On the other side hobbled a shaking quivering wolf, drooling steadily.   
  


<Oh yeah......oh......oh........just.....one......little......ickle......bit......just.....ooooooooooooh>   
  


Atop the TollBooth evil triumphed.....cackled......wept with joy......and snacked on freshly bought rowies. A discarded Louoooooooouuuuuuuuoooooo Skagnittoooooooooooooo disguise lay on the bed as Victoria Metcalf began to plan her glorious future.   
  
  
  


**LA FINISH!!**   
  
  
  


1\. The name of the infamous eaterie? .......Victoria's Restaurant (I kid ye notte) 

2\. The name of the store?....Fraser's (again no legs are pulled here babeeeeee)   
  



End file.
